The Noble Life of Alberic Grunnion
by Amelia Letter
Summary: Alberic Grunnion was just another Hogwarts student. What made him and his future different were his strange ambitions. -"Let's prank them." "Sure, what d'you have in mind?" "You boys must be joking! If you boys prank someone I'll... I'll..." "Yes?" "I'll ignore you!" "Scary."- Yes, Alberic certainly lived an exceptional life. Written for the Chocolate Frog Cards Competition on HPFC


**A/N: Hey there readers! I wrote this for the Chocolate Frog Cards Competition on HPFC. My chocolate frog persona was Alberic Grunnion :) Enjoy!**

**Word Count: 3267**

* * *

Alberic Siegfried Grunnion was born on an terrible, terrible day.

January thirteenth in the year 1803 was an exceptionally odd day. A horrid snowstorm had hit the small town of Brynmawr, Wales exceptionally hard. Buckets and buckets of snow were falling from the sky, piling up quickly, in large snowflakes that were swept sideways by the wind. It was a blizzard, and highly odd for the small town of Brynmawr at any time of the year. Many long-standing residents shouted witchcraft, others simply thought it typical Welsh bad luck.

And it was this Welsh bad luck that Astrid Kruger found herself having, despite her heavily German ancestry.

The German citizen, one of few women of her time that kept their last name when marrying, moved to Wales when she was just a young girl of sixteen. Her hopes were to get married, which she did, and have children, which she most definitely did. At age thirty-one, Astrid had six children already, and one other very much on the way.

Which now brings us back to January thirteenth in the year 1803: the birthdate of Alberic Siegfried Grunnion. Not only was the blizzard outside so horrid that there was no way Astrid's husband, Aeron Grunnion, would make it home that day. He would be stuck at the worker's mill, most likely freezing his fingers off. That simply left Astrid with one young, scared midwife and six curious children, the oldest aged thirteen and the youngest just two years old.

More unto that, it also happened to be a Friday, on that thirteenth of January.

But Astrid was lucky, as newborn Alberic was born quite quickly and the young midwife found that she hardly had to help, with the exception of fetching some things for Astrid. Alberic Siegfried Grunnion was born swiftly and easily, to Astrid's surprise, without any complications. The newborn seemed to be of a normal size, cried a sufficient length of time, and had no visible deformities. So maybe, Astrid thought, the Welsh bad luck did not quite get to her.

But then Astrid remembered. There was a secret that her husband Aeron kept for her. A very important secret that no man had need to be burdened with, and yet Aeron Grunnion refused to leave Astrid Kruger in the streets all of those years ago when she was just a seventeen year-old girl.

Astrid Kruger was a witch, albeit an uneducated one, and her children had inherited this magic. Briefly, Astrid wondered, if there could be an imperfection in young Alberic Siegfried Grunnion, named so for Astrid's favourite epic, and that that might be that her son was born a Squib.

* * *

Alberic received his letter six whole monts after turning eleven.

His parents had always told him to never open mail, lest it be addressed to him, for it was rude and intrusive. Except this letter was brought by an owl, not a pigeon, and it truly was addressed to him. Eagerly, Alberic ripped off the red wax seal, already knowing what was awaiting inside the aged parchment envelope.

Alberic had seen almost all of his siblings come and go from Hogwarts. The oldest, Anwen, had graduated from Hogwarts seven years prior and now lived in London and had started her own family. Alberic's brother, Cadoc, had graduated two years after, and Rhys two years after Cadoc. Alberic's sister, Bronwyn, was attending her last year at Hogwarts, and Carys was starting her fifth year. Roderick, who Alberic always felt closest to, was starting his third year.

When Alberic's mother entered the room and saw him reading the letter, he expected her to be angry. Instead, a look of relief seemed to cross her features as she registered the red wax seal that had fallen to the floor.

Alberic never quite understood why his mother seemed so relieved. It was only two minutes later that she was crying about her baby leaving anyways.

* * *

"Let's prank them."

Caitlin simply glared back at him.

After five years of being friends with Caitlin Teague, Alberic figured that sometimes she just didn't understand what fun was. Alberic couldn't really say that she didn't understand _at all_, because on many occasions she eagerly agreed to prank with him, but this was not the case today. In fact, this case was happening less and less as the years went by, which Alberic found very peculiar.

With a sigh, Alberic turned to his other friend, Rory Coutts. "Let's prank them, Rory," Alberic repeated.

"Sure, what d'you have in mind?" Rory replied.

Caitlin turned to gape at them. "You boys must be joking!" she exclaimed. "If you two prank the Slytherins I'll... I'll..."

"Yes, you'll do what?" Alberic coaxed with a smirk on his face.

Caitlin only got angrier. "I'll never speak to the both of you again!" she shouted.

"Oh, come on, Cait," Alberic said. "What d'you wanna do all day? Just sit on this log like a bunch of mutes and stare at the castle? You've been quite the bore since you became one of the Gryffindor prefects."

"You're only jealous that Robert Anderson became a prefect and you didn't," Cait grumbled, crossing her arms.

"Like hell I'd be jealous of that English tosser," Alberic replied angrily. "Besides, he's the epitome of a stuck-up, spoiled kid. You're the only one that likes him 'cos you fancy him."

"Al! That's not true!" Cait exclaimed. But her face had given her away, because fifteen year-old Cait's skin was burning redder and redder by the second.

"Oh isn't it?" Al questioned. "Well then, I'll believe you when you prank the Slytherins with Rory and I. Merlin knows they deserve it."

Cait gave her two friends wary glances.

"Yeah, come on, Cait," Rory said. "Have a little fun. How many times have you just wanted to hit that Malfoy bloke? That git's graduating this year. Might as well leave him with a positive note, eh?"

Cait sighed and smiled at Al and Rory. "All right then, you've got me," she said. "What d'you boys have in mind?"

* * *

The Scot, the Welsh, and the Irishwoman. What havoc they wreaked through Hogwarts, one would never believe. Not even their peers, who knew they were the culprits of almost every prank the school had witnessed in those seven years, could fathom that those three intellectual and amicable students were truly to blame. And of course, the professors believed this tale even less, because there was no way smart and pretty Caitlin Teague, humorous and kind Rory Coutts, and intelligent and sociable Alberic Grunnion could ever participate in such heinous activities.

Oh, but they most certainly did.

It was the day of June twenty-fifth in the year 1821, the final day of school. The following day, all of the students would go to Hogsmeade Station, and Cait, Al, and Rory would see it for the last time. The Gryffindors' days of pranking at Hogwarts were done, and this was how they found themselves discussing their futures while looking at memoirs of old pranks.

"What do you want to do, Cait?" Rory asked.

Cait paused for a moment before replying. "I want to work in the Ministry," she said.

"That's bloody hard if you're a woman, though, isn't it?" Al asked.

"Yes, it is," Cait slowly agreed. "But I don't care. I'm going to work in the Ministry no matter what. And I'll get a decent job there too. Even if I have to start from the very bottom, fetching tea for the assistants."

Al laughed. "Merlin Cait, you never cease to amaze me!" he said.

"And what about you, Al?" Rory asked. "What do you want to do?"

"Probably move into the city and continue on as I am," Al replied. "Maybe I'll start a joke shop. You know, graduating doesn't mean you have to drastically change your life."

Cait laughed lightly and shook her head. "So predictable, Al."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Al asked, sitting up from where he was lying on the floor of the common room.

"And you, Rory?" Cait asked, ignoring Al. "What are you doing in these coming years?"

"Oh, probably just an average job," Rory answered. "Get married and have a few kids."

"Like the boring normal person you are," Al added with a smile.

"You know it, mate," Rory said, laughing.

* * *

The life of a joker was very, very slow-going.

Al's hope of a joke shop were quite shattered, but he couldn't exactly complain. He did, after all, have a joke shop in Diagon Alley, no matter how small, and he lived in a small tiny flat right above the joke shop. No matter how uncommon flats were nowadays, he thought them quite convenient. Anyways, the shop got quite some business and at least half of the things on the shelves were of Al's making. The young man easily sustained himself and he couldn't say he wasn't having fun pranking every student that walked through the door.

But the shop was small, both in sentiment and in size.

It had only been open for six months, and as a nineteen year-old, Al couldn't say he knew a heck of a lot about business, which was part of the problem. Until six months ago, he found himself back in the familiar Hogsmeade village and working hard to gain expertise and money in Zonko's Joke Shop. Needless to say, now that Al had the money, he wasn't quite sure how Zonko's made it so big. Maybe it was patience.

The ship bell rang suddenly and Al quickly looked up. Customers, finally.

When he saw who was at the door, all Al could do was gape.

"_Cait_?" he exclaimed. Al jumped down from his place behind the cashier counter and went to hug his school friend. "Blimey, it's really you! How've you been?"

Cait laughed and hugged Al back. "Perfectly fine," she answered. "How have _you_ been? I couldn't believe my eyes just a moment ago. _Grunnion Joke Emporium_. So you've done it, eh?"

Al smiled and said, "Didn't I say I would?"

Al hadn't seen Cait or Rory since the summer after they graduated. He supposed it was because they were all so engrossed in their new lives. Cait was the first to start disappearing, giving Rory and Al the common excuse of work at the Ministry being tough. Al believed her without a doubt, but he also had a feeling there was something else bothering her. As for Rory, he moved back to Scotland just after their first Christmas out of school.

"Yes, yes, of course," Cait said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Now, how are you?"

"Oh, fine, I suppose. I guess it's been a little tough getting the shop going, but I can't say it's not decent right now," Al replied. "How's the Ministry going, then?"

"Oh, just splendid!" Cait exclaimed happily. "I've made it so far already, I can't believe it. I'm the secretary to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"That's amazing," Al said with a smile. "Soon enough it'll be the Minister!"

"You better believe it!" Cait replied.

The shop bell rang again. Cait and Al turned their attention to the door.

"Oh, Robert, you don't have to come in," Cait said quickly.

Al raised an eyebrow. "Oi, the very Robbie Anderson?" he asked. "Never thought I'd see you again, let alone here."

Robert winced. "I prefer Robert," he said. "And I never thought I'd find myself here either, but Cait just wanted to say hello to an old friend, and who am I to argue?"

_Possibly an irritable tosser_, Al thought. "Were you two spending the day in Diagon Alley?"

"Oh no—"

"Yes, we were actually," Robert interrupted Cait, who looked positively fuming at the fact. "We haven't had this time in a while."

"Truthfully, we just ran into each other," Cait clarified, turning away from Robert. "I was only here to buy a book from Flourish & Blotts, but then we found each other in the small shop and Robert offered to take me to Fortescue's for a nice bowl of ice cream."

_How nice of him_, Al thought mockingly. He wasn't sure why, but there was always something about Robert that bugged Al. "Well then, I won't intrude any longer on your day," Al said. He turned to Cait. "How about we catch up later over a Butterbeer at the Leaky Cauldron this evening?"

"That certainly isn't a place for a lady of—"

"What a splendid idea," Cait said, interrupting Robert. "I'll meet you there half an hour after your shop's closing?"

* * *

"So then, Al," Cait started. "What have you _really _been up to?"

"So distrusting..." Al said with a shake of his head. "Well, six months ago I quit my job at Zonko's and bought that little shop. I suppose it's all right, but honestly..."

"You expected it to be easier," Cait finished. "I agree. My father's trying to prove that I don't need work and all I need to do is get married and be a good mother and wife. He's even gone as far as to lock Robert and I in the same room last Christmas dinner."

"He wants you to marry Anderson?" Al asked incredulously.

"Any man, really, as long as he's dependable," Cait said with an irritated sigh. "There must be something good about your life though."

"I can't say it's really bad," Al admitted. "And you know... I'm onto something. I've been working on inventing my own things, and one of them... I just have a good feeling about it."

"Really?" Cait asked, taking a swig of her Butterbeer. "Well, that's certainly good. What is it?"

"You'll have to wait and see," Al said with a smile.

"Over-confident git," Cait muttered, smiling back.

"Enough about us," Al said with a wave of his hand. "What have you heard of Rory?"

"Well, he did follow his dreams. That makes one of us," Cait answered. "Last I heard, he was married with a whole flock of children."

Al smiled. "We should get in touch with him."

"Ha! Good luck finding him!" Cait exclaimed. "He's up to more jokes than you are."

"Well, just you wait until my brilliant idea surfaces into the world!"

* * *

"Ha! Brilliant!"

Al couldn't believe his luck. Two years he worked on this product. This one invention was his most prized. Through the hundreds of joke products he had produced, some on his own store shelves and some on the store shelves of other joke shops, Al had put most of his effort into this invention. And now, the official testing of this product went... unbelievably splendidly. It worked exactly like it was supposed to, if not better.

"Fantastic!" Al exclaimed, laughing. "Cait, you have to see this!"

"Actually, I'd prefer to see some eggs, a cup of coffee, and a slice of toast with butter right about now."

Al only shook his head in amusement and continued staring at his invention sitting on the small kitchen table.

"What the bloody hell are you covered in?" Cait asked. "And _what_ is that smell?"

Al looked up suddenly to see Cait standing by the doorway of the kitchen in a simple white robe. There was a grimace on her face as she eyed the brown substance that covered Al's shirt.

Their relationship was... complicated. That's what Al liked to call it anyway. As him and Cait met more often since that day two years ago when Cait burst into his shop, Al discovered that Cait's father never actually liked him, among other things. Other things being that the two friends discovered that they may have had suppressed feelings for each other for awhile.

Nevertheless, life went on as usual, with the small addition of a slightly secretive relationship. Soon enough, Cait gave in to her father and got married with the condition that she keep her job, but that certainly didn't stop anything between her and Al, which is where the complicated came in. Cait continued meeting with Al behind her new husband's, Robert, back. Highly immoral, but for some reason, the two never looked at it that way.

Al held up the shell that the brown substance exploded from with the same happy smile. "Dungbomb," he said simply.

"Go wash, I'll make breakfast," Cait ordered. "I should've predicted this."

"Cait, seriously," Al said. "_This_ is the big invention. Small burst of dung, huge burst of bad smell, a little bit of magic, and you've got a magical stinkbomb that students and anyone with a sense of humour will go mad for."

Cait smiled. "You're something else, Al Grunnion," she said with amusement. Cait shrugged and added, "I'd kiss you, but not in this state."

"I'll go wash," Al said and ran out of the room as quickly as he could.

* * *

In Alberic Siegfried Grunnion's seventy-five years on the large and spacious Earth, he most certainly accomplished many things.

He opened his own joke shop at the young age of nineteen and held an affair for seven years, from age twenty to twenty-seven. At age twenty-one, he invented the amazing pranking product known as the Dungbomb that, while it took time to kick off, was now on every single joke shop shelf, including the famous and rich Zonko's. He travelled to Greece, Egypt, Italy, Germany, France, Belgium, Japan, Thailand, China, and the Netherlands.

He should've been the happiest man on Earth. Except he wasn't.

After a while, someone like Al becomes "the Dungbomb man" and there was very little left in Al's life when his and Cait's relationship was discovered and Cait mysteriously moved to Northern England the very next day. After that, life was just simple, boring, and repetitive. Al didn't think much about how his days went by.

"All right then, Mr. Grunnion, we're ready!" the photographer in front of him announced.

Al supposed today would be mildly exciting. He was being photographed for the Daily Prophet and for his very own Chocolate Frog Card. It would be quite the achievement to appear on the very same cards Al collected since he was just six years old.

"So, we had an idea, but it'll take a lot of courage on your part," the photographer continued. "We were thinking that you could set off a Dungbomb right in your hands, and you'll be looking very excited. How about it, Mr. Grunnion?"

Al shrugged. "It couldn't hurt," he replied. "Merlin knows I've already blown enough Dungbombs in my own face in the process of inventing them."

The photographer cheered in success. "All right let's do this... set it off and smile!"

Al set off the Dungbomb, but as the disgusting brown substance splattered over his shirt and the putrid odour surrounded him, the man was not smiling, for the first time.

There was little left in Alberic Siegfried Grunnion's life to smile about.

* * *

**So that's it!**

**-How is the grammar/spelling?  
-Did the character life story seem all right?  
-Favourite aspect of Al's life?**

**Thanks for reading! :)**


End file.
